Guess what guys. I'm going as... A FLOWER. Shocking, isn't it? It'll probably be a yellow one.

If we can choose what we're wearing to the ball, Thirty will be going in plain ball wear, and I'll be dressed in a mixture of white ball clothes/a polar bear costume. Specifically a really fluffy polar bear ear headband, and a plain white dress with white fluff at the end of the sleeves/skirt.

But can we really choose what we're going as? Has this been confirmed?

@Stardust: Sea Glass and Celeste can definitely coordinate! Any ideas for what they could be? 

I myself will probably go for something on the extravagant side. Got anything spiderish? Black would be a plus.

TOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The ballroom was as immense and regal as was expected.  It was fit for a party full of laughter, dancing, and joy.

Sadly, none of things were available.  It was shaping up like an awkward school dance, with people hanging around the walls nervously.  Hopeful string music floated from somewhere, or nowhere, to unresponsive ears.  The only cheerful sight in the room were the outfits, which ranged from a peacock to a dragon to several wolves.  One of the bizarre staff members had sent anyone back who wasn’t appropriately attired for the Victorian era, so every skirt was full and every hat was at the right angle.

An interesting observation on the nature of AEs and Chatterboxers could be made from this event.  When someone has been murdered and their doom was likely imminent, they still find time to make costumes.  The armoires had not disappointed in this respect, with a plethora of hats, feathers, scarves, fans, masquerade masks, and anything else imaginable.  As they were putting together costumes occasionally someone would run out into the halls and call out for a specific piece,

“Does anyone have a big green feather?”

“A colorful silk scarf?”

“White shoes?”

Until no one really knew where everything came from in the first place.

So there they stood, a collection of hoop skirts, bow ties, top hats, and petticoats like there’s no tomorrow.

And for some of them, I suppose there really isn’t.

Rogue had started with some clothing from her bag, but the maid (who was surprisingly strong) barred her firmly from entering, so she had to quickly reconstruct.  A couple of the others, (Joan, Viola?, Izzy, Darkking, Stardust, S. Clockwork, and Agent Winter) were required to fix their costumes as well to fit the guidelines, although Rogue’s was the most drastic change and took the longest.

Rogue reemerged about twenty minutes later in a simple black dress with a smaller hoop (everyone had a black outfit in their armoire, so it was easy to find a good one), delicate black gloves, and a silky black scarf that only showed her glowing white eyes.  It looked rather elegant, really.  

But even though they were all dressed with somewhere to go, dancing just felt… wrong. Jwyn had been excused from the ball for obvious reasons.  Spring Flower, her roommate, had started to put together an outfit but kept bursting into tears and ultimately decided to just give up and go to sleep.  She was in a different room, under Joan’s suggestion, so as not to wake up Jwyn with her sobs.    The plan was to smuggle some food up later.

The partygoers, for despite the appearances a party is what it was, had still not really started anything.  A few conversations were started but they were mostly started with “So do you know when this is over?” and since no one did they were short-lived.

“Psst,” icarus hissed leaning over to Viola?, “would you be up for finding some answer’s about this whole thing?” She asked softly, eyes darting over to the maid at the door.

Viola? nodded, “Sure, why-  do you have a plan?” she asked with hushed eagerness.

“Rogue suggested that we maybe try interrogating the maid- after this is over, of course.  We don’t want to lose our dinner,” she smiled in an attempt to make that sound less menacing, realizing how creepy, or even Julius Caeser-esque, it sounded when said out loud.

“Okay,” Viola? said after a pause, “but as long as no one else opposes it.  We really need to stick together right now.”  

The music continued.

Those CBers who were paying attention would notice that it flowed seamlessly from song to song without a single mistake, meaning it was most likely a recording from well-hidden speakers and not an orchestra smuggled in by Madame Flambeau before she left.

A couple of people stepped out onto the dance floor, although they stayed near the edge.  Just as the dance finally seemed to be picking up pace and might actually prove to be a good time, the doors opposite the entrance opened revealing a brightly lit dining hall.  Breaking up into different groups, they started to move over that way with some bright chatter about the smells already wafting through the air.

“Wait,” Rogue said, her voice commanding and carrying.  She nodded towards the other door where the rather burly maid was already turning to go.  With all eyes locked on her, she strode over to the retreating woman.  “Excuse me,”

The maid looked at her coolly.

"We-“ Rogue faltered for a split second, the continued firmly, “we have some questions for you.”

“I don’t speak English,” the maid said, “only a few phrases.”

“That’s clearly not true!” Agent Winter said, “you have virtually no accent!”

“Níl Béarla agam,” she stated coldly.  Rogue glared at her.

“Can you understand her?” Izzy asked anxiously.

“No,” Rogue said,  “I only speak a couple languages: Latin-“

“Wait, you said speak Latin?” Agent Winter cut her off.  “Why didn’t you say anything about the ‘one of your own’ thing?!”

“I didn’t want to seem pretentious.  Then, after…” she cleared her throat, “well, after that it seemed wise not to make myself a target.”  Agent Winter looked unsatisfied, but let it be.  “She’s lying about the language barrier," Rogue continued, "but she’s not to be intimidated.  Let’s see if someone else is more responsive.”

The dining room was empty of staff by the time they reached it, and the doors, excepting the one they came in, were all locked.  Most likely they could have found someone, but hunger is a powerful thing and the food smelled heavenly.

As they sat down, it became apparent how unusually long the table was.  The chairs were spaced very far apart from each other, not at all ideal for conversation.  The table lapsed into peaceful clinking of silverware and the occasional, “pass the butter.”

“Excuse me, Clockwork, would you please pass that soup?” Secret asked, pointing to a heavy bowl of potato soup.  Using both hands, S. Clockwork handed her the pot.  “Oh!”

Not expecting the weight, Secret’s grip faltered and the bowl fell, pouring all over the lacey white tablecloth and spilling into her lap.  

“Oh no!  I’m so sorry!  Your beautiful dress!”  S. Clockwork cried, righting the bowl.

“No, no, it was my fault,” Secret said sadly, dabbing hopelessly at the ruined fabric.  “I-  I think I’m going to go change.”  She pushed her chair back and, with some difficulty, navigated her hoopskirt back into a position for walking.  Her steps echoed in the ballroom, until finally fading from the diners’ ears.  

“This bread is amazing,” Alizarine commented.

“What?” Stardust asked.

“This bread is amazing,” Alizarine raised her voice

“Oh.  Yeah, it is.”

…

After about ten minutes, overlapping hurried steps echoed through the ballroom.

“Guys?  I- I can’t unlock Jwyn’s door.”  Secret said upon bursting into the room.  Spring Flower was close behind her, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“I- It isn’t even supposed to be locked at all…”  Spring Flower whimpered,  “Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoh….  What if she’s hurt?  Or- Or…”

She trailed off, but everyone was thinking the same thing anyway.

And as it turns out, they were right.

I'm so sorry that I let this slip away!  I also would like to apologize for the quality of this, heheh... 

I do have excuses for not continuing it for so long, but that's not important :3  Please do continue to make guesses and theories, it gives me good material!  And for those who aren't being included very much yet, don't worry, I'm going to continue to shift focus around.